Monday, September 19, 2016

Vignettes by Me, on Themes Picked Randomly: Day 19

Theme 241: Cynicism

The affectionate russet-gold Lancashire
Heeler, named Diogenes by his late classics professor master, nuzzled the upheld
palms of Enodia,the veterinary intern in the animal
shelter’s intake vestibule, upon bounding from the wire trap he had been brought
in, once Eugene, the animal control officer, released the trap’s door. Diogenes
ducked and laid his head upon Enodia’s lap. She was crouching on the celadon tiles
before the swinging aluminum door that lead to Dog Control One and the
procedure labs. The gleaming marbles of Diogenes’ eyes looking up into Enodia’s own made her smile, even though the wet bib of his coat had dampened her
slacks.

When Enodia noticed that Eugene was staring grimly
at the floor, however, leaning against the frame of the roll door opening out onto his
truck and thumbing the handle of the taser on his belt, she turned her
attention to the clipboard, which held forms to be signed by the lead
veterinarian, left atop the trap by Eugene. She immediately saw the
words TERMINATE WITHOUT DELAY printed in block letters near the top of the
first form.

“What did he do? He seems so friendly,”
Enodia inquired, a quiver breaking into her voice. Her smile had vanished,
and her face had drained of blood.

“You don’t want to know,” Eugene croaked, planting his stare in the ground, stiffly avoiding glancing in the dog’s
direction.

“I don’t?” Enodia asked in a high,
precatory tone.

This question triggered a flash of the
dreaded image in Eugene’s mind again: after meeting the neighbor who had put in the call outside, Eugene had pushed open the front door of the
professor’s condo with his bite stick to reveal Diogenes the dog standing on the arm of
the sofa where his owner had died, looking up at Eugene with stringy, moist strips of tendons from his master’s brachioradalis muscle dangling from his
chops, greeting him with the same friendly, eager eyes. Diogenes had
devoured large chucks of the professor’s right forearm, leaving tooth holes in
the tattered skin around the professor’s wrist and drenching the dog’s fury bib and
chin with congealing deep crimson blood. Medics later determined that the
professor had been dead for less than two hours when Diogenes decided to start
eating him.

“His owner—he died of an aneurysm, but
the corpse—the arm stripped to the bone—like leg of lamb …” Eugene trailed off
and turned away, looking out to his truck and holding his hand over his mouth.

“Oh,” Enodia said. She
looked down at Diogenes, and it dawned on her why his coat was wet: he had
been hosed down to rinse the human gore from his fur. Growing algid, she pushed
Diogenes away slowly, took a leash down from the wall, and carefully attached it
to Diogenes’ collar without touching his hide. She took up the clipboard and
led Diogenes through the swinging metal door, beyond which he would soon be
anesthetized in a procedure lab. Eugene was visibly
relieved when the dog left his presence.

Diogenes, for his part, was
still happily wagging his tail and looking all around with his shining eyes,
eager to meet new people and make new friends.